Signs And Portents
by JoeNobody
Summary: Another series of vignettes with a secret theme. Mostly humorous, as of right now. At least, I intend them to be humorous. First reviewer to guess the secret theme wins HIGH PRAISE!
1. Chapter 1: Aries

_**Author's Note:** Yup, another series of mostly-unrelated vignettes featuring B&B. And yup, another series with a secret theme. Once again, it's a set with a clearly-defined number and order, but I won't say what it is until I get to the end or someone guesses it. I plan on keeping it rated "T" or milder, but who knows what might happen?_

Chapter 1

"Booth, this is quite possibly the most ridiculous idea you've ever had. And that includes your beer hat."

"What, Bones? It makes perfect sense."

"Only in a world totally dominated by testosterone and devoid of anything resembling actual thought. You're part of a couple now, with one son and a daughter on the way. You live in a city, and have a Bureau-issued SUV. Why on earth would you need a pickup truck?" 

"We're looking at houses in the suburbs, and suburban people always need to haul stuff home. I'm getting a four-door model, so there'll be room for both Parker and the girl. And there's a limit to the personal use I can put on the SUV."

Bones sighed. How often, really, will you need to haul things? It would be far, far more practical to get a smaller, less expensive vehicle for yourself, then either pay for delivery or rent a vehicle."

Bones shook his head. "It's not the same. It's just not the same. It's been years since I've owned a vehicle of my own, and I miss the freedom. Besides, look at these brochures."

Bones looked down at the brochures and burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

As she caught her breath, she finally answered. "Apart from the sheer excessive phallic symbolism of the styling, only you would pick out such an oxymoronic vehicle."

Booth started to get angry. "Look, there is nothing moronic about pickup trucks. They're practical, versatile, and safe."

Bones was almost gasping. "Not moronic, oxymoronic. As in, self-contradictory. Could you have picked a more stupidly-named vehicle?"

"Huh? The name? They've been calling their trucks that for... geez, decades at least."

"Booth, think about it for a minute. You're driving straight at a suspect's car. Are you going to 'Dodge' him or 'Ram' him?"

Booth sat back on the couch. "You know... I never thought about that. It is kind of funny, isn't it?"

"It's one of the funniest things I've seen in ages, Booth. And if, as you say, they've been using that name for decades, it's even funnier."

"So... if I went for a different truck, would that be better?"

Bones considered the matter. "No, if you're going to get one of these behemoths, it might as well be one that will give me something to appreciate."

Booth sighed. "Good. I've always had a fondness for Dodges. My first car was one of those K-Cars from the '80s. Terrible car - cheap, ugly, utterly gutless, but a lot of good memories and she never let me down. I ran that heap into the ground."

Bones smiled softly, then resumed her serious expression. "But if you want my support for this, there are going to be a few conditions."

Booth was wary. Wins like this almost never came without a hefty price. "Conditions like what?"

"First, I will have input into the options you get. If you're going to rationalize this as a family vehicle, then I will have my say in how it is equipped. This will not be a rolling man-cave."

Booth thought about that. "OK, that makes sense. What did you have in mind?"

"Just off the top of my head, it will be equipped with all available safety features, and the rear will be made fully child-safe - including stainproofing of the fabric in the seats. Next, it will have a minimum of purely cosmetic features - I find them tacky and they convey the wrong message to our children."

Booth nodded. "I can see that. So far, I don't have any issues."

"Most importantly, there will be no artificial scrota attached to the rear bumper."

Booth had never even considered getting "Truck Nuts," but he saw a chance to win a concession or two. "What? Come on, Bones, they're funny! They're like my beer hat!"

She leveled a deathly serious gaze at him. "Seeley Joseph Booth, if I ever catch a set of those on our family's vehicle, I will remove it - and replace it with yours."

Booth shuddered - he knew she was fully capable of carrying out that threat. The only reason she'd not do it was if she wanted more children by him. "Fine, OK, no Truck Nuts. But I'm getting the top of the line entertainment system."

"Only if it comes with GPS."

"I think that's part of the package."

"Finally, - and this one is the most important - you will not keep me from driving it on occasion." She saw the protest start in his eyes, and kept talking. "You've used the rationale of federal regulations from keeping me from driving your Bureau SUV, but those won't apply here. And, as you said, this will be a 'family' vehicle - and as the other half of the adult members of the family, I fully intend to assert my rights when it comes to access to the 'family' vehicle."

Booth realized he wasn't winning this one. "OK. That's only fair."

"Then I think we're tentatively agreed. We'll pick out the model and options, figure out the fair price, then go negotiate with the dealer."

Booth put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "Bones, you're the greatest. I promise you, you won't regret this."

Bones sighed to herself as she leaned into the embrace. Somehow, she irrationally knew, she would end up regretting it.


	2. Chapter 2: Taurus

Chapter 2

The movie over, Booth hit the power button on the DVD player. "So, Bones, what did you think?"

Bones considered the question. "Well, I can certainly understand the effect on your adolescent libido the scene with the mechanical bull must have had."

Booth knew he shouldn't be surprised at anything she said, but he couldn't help himself. "Huh?"

The rhythms of the mechanism is quite reminiscent of the sex act, in a highly exaggerated fashion. Indeed, one nickname for the female-superior position is 'cowgirl,' and this shows precisely how that term came to be. In addition, the movement of the bull causes considerable motion of her breasts, which most heterosexual males - especially adolescent ones, like you when it came out - would find stimulating."

Booth didn't know what he could possibly say to that, so he punted. "But what did you think of it? How did it affect you?"

Bones considered it. "Well, the ride could be quite stimulating for the rider. The motion of the mechanism causes considerable stimulation to the genital area, and some women could find that quite arousing. However, at the higher settings, the force could easily cross the line from pleasurable to painful. While blows to the groin are far more incapacitating to men, they still can be quite uncomfortable for women." She paused. "However, her performance in staying atop the mechanism is quite realistic, physiologically speaking. There's no reason why women can't be as competent at this as men?"

Booth had been lost in the thoughts about the 'arousing' aspects, but the challenge to masculine superiority at riding mechanical bulls snapped him out of it. "What? Get real, Bones. Men have far greater upper-body strength than women, and you're holding on by one hand. Women simply can't keep up with men."

Bones got that look in her eyes that said she was about to utterly dismantle a challenge to her expertise. "Actually, Booth, women have considerable advantages that come into play here. For one, upper body strength isn't quite as essential here. The rider also hangs on with leg pressure, and women's legs are quite strong. Next, women have a lower center of gravity, which means the bucking has less chance of displacing the rider. Finally, while women have lesser upper-body strength, they also have considerably less weight to be thrown around. In fact, I would argue that the average woman could outlast the average man. I would even say that I could outperform you on such a device."

Booth snorted. "It figures you'd make that kind of challenge when you're pregnant, knowing that there's no way in hell I'd take you up on it."

Bones, however, had a full head of steam. "Fine. Six months after I give birth, we'll test it. You find a place with one of those mechanisms, and we'll settle it."

Booth laughed. "Like there are any around the DC area. You want to fly down to Texas and leave a six-month-old baby alone just to settle a bet?"

"Oh, come on, Booth. Get real. There are a lot of people from the Old West region in DC. Just counting Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico, there are about 50 members of Congress alone, along with their staffs. Add in the general popularity of the cowboy mythos and country music, there have to be several bars and clubs with mechanical bulls." She grabbed her laptop and did a quick Google search. "Here are three, two in the Northwest and one in Arlington." She turned to face him and gave him a challenging gaze. "Go ahead, pick one."

Booth started sweating. All he could hope is that she'd forget it in the next year (give or take), because he had no desire to compete with her like this.

She then turned thoughtful. "Unless, of course, you're concerned that your bad back might impair your performance..."

That did it. "Oh, no, Bones. This is ON." He took the laptop away from her. "Stetson's... that's not that far from the National Mall. But let's make it six months and a week, though."

Bones laughed. "Do you really think that extra seven days will give you that much of an advantage, Booth?"

He smiled warmly. "Nope. But beating at riding a mechanical bull is probably the last way I want to spend our little girl's first half-birthday."


	3. Chapter 3: Gemini

_**Author's Note: **Oh, crap. Frankie nailed it - the zodiac. Chapter 1 featured a Ram and an allusion to a Dodge Aries. Chapter 2 and its mechanical bull was inspired by an "American Pickers" episode where they bought up a bunch of stuff from Gilley's, the honkytonk where "Urban Cowboy" was set. I'd hoped to get at least four or five chapters before anyone figured it. Congrats on your HIGH PRAISE, Frankie - you were too damned smart for me._

Chapter 3

"OK, Bones," Booth asked her over the diner table, "how about this one: twins."

Bones looked back at him with a slightly puzzled expression. "You're going to say more than that."

He settled back in his seat. "Identical twins. They live apart, see each other only occasionally. Every now and then, they both leave their homes dressed identically. They go to the same place at the same time, then disappear. Shortly thereafter, one of them commits a crime and flees. Then they both return to their separate homes at the same time. How do we bust them?"

Bones frowned as she absent-mindedly chewed on his French fries. "Identical twins are formed when a zygote divides, then separates, in the womb, so DNA analysis would be inconclusive - it would only prove one of the two committed the crime."

"And with the other's location being unaccounted for, we can't prove which is guilty."

She nodded. "Fingerprints could also be problematic - in rare cases, those are identical, too."

"Plus they're smart enough to wear latex gloves, so no prints."

She smiled slyly. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"Bones, if it was easy, it wouldn't ever get to us. When it's easy, it's solved before they call us in."

She saluted with another of his fries. "Fair enough. OK, if they're dressed identically, then it's also likely that any fiber evidence would be as inconclusive as the DNA tests. So, what evidence do we have?"

Booth thought. "Hmm... eyewitness accounts, surveillance video."

"We can discount the witnesses. But the video... that could be useful. Sometimes twins are 'mirror twins' - could one be left-handed, and the other right-handed?"

"Both right-handed."

She gave him a brief glare. "What else can we get - how about their medical records?"

He thought it over. "Could be tricky, but if we explain how we're trying to distinguish between twins who are prime suspects, and get the right judge... yeah, I'll say sure. Why?"

"There are some injuries and diseases that can cause physical changes in the body that can show up on video. Since they're twins, genetic ailments would be pointless, but a leg or back injury could affect gait or posture."

Booth nodded. "That's good. I hadn't thought of that one. That could work. But let's say it doesn't play out. What next?"

Bones closed her eyes to think. Identical twins, identical clothing, only video surveillance to go on, no medical way to distinguish them purely visually, one twin unaccounted for during the robbery... she opened her eyes with a slow smile. "You're cheating."

Booth put on his best innocent face. "What? Me, cheat? I'm insulted."

"I've given you two perfectly valid solutions, and you've rejected them both out of hand. Either one should work, but you've denied them."

"Hey, you yourself said they were possible, not certain."

"Besides, this is one of those cases where your approach works so much better. Are you saying that if you interrogated both of them, you couldn't get one of them to fracture?"

"It's 'crack,' Bones."

"Whatever. And if you had Sweets to back you up, advising you on how to work twins, you'd 'crack' one of them."

"Thanks, Bones, but I'm no miracle worker. Even Sweets would tell you that trying to turn one identical twin against another is almost impossible. They are so close, it would be virtually impossible for them to betray their brother."

Bones wasn't ready to give up on the cheating accusation. "Besides, you know my area of expertise is bones. You've given me no remains to work with."

"That's because I know I wouldn't be able to concoct a suitable challenge for you in that area. Besides, while you specialize in bones, you're still a forensic anthropologist - and that includes living bodies, too. Besides, don't you enjoy stretching a bit every now and then?"

Bones reviewed the facts one last time. "I can't see how it can be solved, Booth. Not with the limits you've defined. Now, why don't you tell me what I've overlooked and show me how you figured it could be solved?"

Booth just smiled. "Hell if I know, Bones. I lifted it out of a Tom Clancy novel."

"What?" Bones recognized the name - he'd been on the best-seller list a few times as she'd been, and resented that she'd never beaten him. "How'd they catch them in that case?"

"They got so angry at a guy that they both went and killed him, and were busted at the scene." He then ducked the rapidly-hurled French fry. "Hey, careful! I just had this suit dry-cleaned!"

"Just be glad it had no ketchup on it. Because the next one just might."


	4. Chapter 4: Cancer

_**Author's Note: **This is a followup to Part Seven of my prior work, "Going Around In Circles."_

Chapter 4: Cancer

Booth groaned. Despite her earlier promise, Bones had offered to help him with the preparation for his colonoscopy - the "cleansing" part. But Booth would have none of that. The last thing he wanted was any witnesses - let alone assistance - while he performed the uncomfortable and humiliating "prep work." the day before the procedure. She did, however, not eat in his presence, silently offering him support for his fasting.

And she was there during the actual procedure, holding his hand and offering commentary on the video feed from the camera. She even gave his hand a congratulatory squeeze when the doctor pronounced him perfectly healthy, and barring any symptoms he shouldn't need another such check until he was at least 50.

However, she did banish him back to his own apartment for two days afterward. And, quite frankly, he couldn't blame her. His lower tract, apparently upset over the whole thing, proceeded to express its displeasure quite actively, noisily, and odiferously for a bit over 24 hours. He suffered through it with as much dignity as he could - which wasn't much - and tried to find the brighter side. For one, there was no one there to witness - with eyes, nose, or ears - his recovery. For another, he wouldn't have to go through this again for at least a decade.

On his first day back, he headed straight for the Jeffersonian. Once in the lab, he found nearly the entire staff - Bones, Cam, Hodgins, Angela, and Daisy Wick, the squintern - all in Angela's office. They were all watching a vidio on the Angelator. A disturbingly familiar video...

Angela was narrating. "There's the giant stick that's been up there for decades. I'm surprised the doctors didn't pull it out, but I bet Studly insisted they leave it alone. Over there are the remains of Jimmy Hoffa - you know the feds were in on that disappearance. And - oh, look! - a secret holdout gun! Geez, I hope he put the safety on..."

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS! I SWEAR TO GOD, SHUT THIS OFF OR I'LL START SHOOTING!"

Dead silence fell. Angela quickly shut off the video. Bones stepped forward. "Booth, I'm so sorry. Angela assured me that you'd find it amusing, and the video isn't actually of your procedure, but some woman on TV whose husband died of colon cancer. When she heard about your procedure, she put this together as a joke."

Booth was slightly mollified to hear it was Katie Couric's colon that Angela had shown, not his, but his pride was still wounded. He pulled Bones out into the hallway and spoke through gritted teeth. "Bones, I only went through this because you insisted. And now I'm finding out that my worst fear has come true - I've turned into a laughingstock."

Bones scowled. She had to fix this. "Let's settle this right now." She pulled him back into Angela's office. "This was intended as a harmless joke, but it failed. So, here's what's going to happen. Angela, you're going to delete this video. And it will never be spoken of again, or certain other incidents will be discussed as well - quite openly, and in great detail.

"For example, Cam, you're currently dating a gynecologist..."

Cam quickly nodded. "Enough said."

"Angela, do you recall a certain time in 2008 when you called me, quite frantically, because..."

"No problem, sweetie."

"Dr. Hodgins, I seem to recollect..."

"Gotcha. Lips sealed."

"Miss Wick, in your case, I believe I have several choices of incidents."

Daisy stood straight. "Do your worst, Dr. Brennan. My life is an open book."

"Well, for one, there was the time Booth needed Sweets to sign off on his recertification after his brain surgery..." Daisy started to blush and bit her lip. "...or that time on Maluku when you ran out of..."

"Enough!" Daisy burst out. "You've proven your point."

"Um... Bones?"

She turned to face Booth. "What? Isn't this satisfactory?"

"Oh, it's fine, Bones. Hell, it's better than fine. But I was just thinking..."

"Go on."

Booth continued hesitantly. "Well, now that I know it's not really me, and since Angela apparently put a lot of work into this... why don't we back it up and watch it all the way through, just once, before she deletes it?"

Dead silence fell again. Finally, Angela spoke up. "Geez, studly, I might have to re-edit the video. Turns out that stick isn't quite so big as I thought."


	5. Chapter 5: Leo

**Update: **_I've been a bad, bad, bad writer. I'm sorry. I was completely logjammed on a story idea for this chapter, and then my life went completely to hell. But this incomplete story nagged at me, and about a month ago a plot finally struck me. I still want to finish the series, but I have no idea when or how i'll continue it. _

Chapter 5: Leo

"That does it! This time, I am shooting him, and no one is going to stop me!"

Dr. Temperance Brennan couldn't recall the time she saw her partner so enraged. "Booth, what's wrong? What happened? And who are you threatening to shoot!"

Booth stopped his ranting to glare at her. "Hodgins! That maniac blew up his lab again, but this time I was in it!"

Bones was stunned. She hadn't heard any blasts. "What? When did this just happen?"

"Just now! And that maniac finally crossed the line. He blew up my hair!"

Bones studied Booth's head carefully. Now that he mentioned it, she noticed that Booth's hair seemed a bit scorched in places. "Booth, you will not shoot Dr. Hodgins. At least not until after I have spoken with him and determine just what happened, and what we should do about it."

Booth fixed her with a glare. "Fine. Go and talk to the dead man. I'll be here cleaning my gun."

Bones carefully shut the door to her office and scurried off to Hodgins' lab. There didn't seem to be any signs of an explosion. But as she reached the door, she picked up a faint whiff of smoke. She carefully opened the door and found a rattled Jack Hodgins cleaning up a small mess.

"Dr. Hodgins, I have an extremely distraught Agent Booth in my office threatening you with grave bodily harm. Would you care to enlighten me just what has him on the verge of committing homicide?"

Hodgins looked up, a genuine expression of fear on his face. "I swear, it wasn't my fault!"

"Just tell me what happened, Jack."

He took a deep breath and sat down. "I was working with some volatile chemicals when Booth came barging in. He didn't even knock or anything, just knocked open the door. I dropped a flask and there was a quick burst of flame that shot right at him. He yelled and ran out the door. I just finished cleaning up the mess."

Bones nodded. "Booth does have some boundary issues when it comes to our spaces around here, and in one sense it could be argued that he got what he deserved - and might just learn something from this."

Hodgins smiled in relief. "Exactly!"

Bones shook her head. "One could make that argument, but it would be futile to do so with Booth. He would never admit it, but he takes a tremendous amount of pride in his hair - and your explosion burned off some of it. He sees it as an affont on his masculinity, and his ego demands some level of satisfaction for the perceived insult."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!"

Bones fixed him with a withering glare. "Really, Dr. Hodgins? Was your door locked? Was there a 'DO NOT DISTURB' or 'DO NOT ENTER' sign on the door?" Hodgins glanced down, chagrined. "In fact, I would wager that your door was ajar, as it often is."

Hodgins sighed. "OK, maybe it is partially my fault, too."

"And so it is incumbent upon us to find some way to resolve this situation to everyone's satisfaction. I think the two of us can come up with something to make all parties concerned happy."

BB BB BB BB BB

Bones carefully re-entered her office. Booth was sitting at her desk, doodling. A glance showed her he was drawing stick figures, with bullseyes around various areas. "Hodgins'" groin was featured in a disturbingly significant number of them.

"Booth, I spoke with Hodgins, and we reached a tentative agreement. However, we need to work out a few more details."

"Fine with me. Just let me know when I can shoot him. And where."

"There will be no shooting, Booth."

"No promises, Bones."

Bones sighed. "Just give me three days to put together a deal with Hodgins. I think we can settle this all peacefully."

"Ain't gonna happen, Bones... but for you, yeah. Three days." He got up and headed for the door.

She stopped him. "That's not just three days where you don't shoot him, Booth. You'll stay away from him entirely."

He shrugged. "Fine."

BB BB BB BB BB

"OK, Bones, it's been three days. Tell me this proposed deal, so I can say no and then shoot Hodgins."

Bones glared at Booth, but let that pass. "I don't see why you're so upset about your hair situation. You managed to adapt to the damage quite nicely. In fact, that style looks remarkably like that worn by military recruits - and you have always been proud of your military experience."

Booth snarled. "You really don't get it, do you? Yes, I'm wearing a recruit cut - but I'm not a recruit. I haven't been a recruit in almost 20 years. I earned the right to not wear this cut, and Hodgins stripped me of that."

Bones nodded. This was going to be even tougher than she thought. Fortunately, she was confident in her presentation. "First up, you will not enter his lab without knocking ever again. You have a bad habit of barging into all our spaces without knocking, and this time it finally caught up with you. I'd add my office to the places where you should knock first, but I know better than to expect you to respect that. However, Dr. Hodgins' lab is not always a safe place - as you learned - and you will not barge into it again."

Booth shrugged. "Fine, let the squint have his little castle. Whatever. I'll knock before I shoot him."

Bones sighed. "That's what he wants, and I think it's eminently reasonable. Now, as for your compensation, we considered him giving you season tickets to the Capitols."

Booth gave a genuine smile. "Now we're talking! That just might be enough to keep me from shooting him!"

Bones continued as if uninterrupted. "We considered that, but we had to reject it. For you to accept such a valuable gift would be in contravention of both FBI regulations and federal law, and both of you could - at the least - lose your jobs."

Booth let out a sigh of exasperation. "If he can't do it, then why did you even bring it up? Did you think teasing me like that would make me less likely to shoot him?"

Bones pursed her lips. "I'm not done, Booth. I'm just giving you the full story so you can properly appreciate the offer. Anyway, since you can't accept the tickets, we then discussed Hodgins giving the tickets to me - which, as your domestic partner, I would then share with you."

Booth nodded. "OK, that could work."

"However, as I am nominally his superior, federal laws would also prohibit such a gift. Which is ridiculous, as both of us are so wealthy that such a gift would not even come close to influencing either of our judgments, but the law is based on objective value, not relative value. So he can't give me the tickets, either."

"So I can still shoot him?"

"Then the two of us consulted with some experts on the laws, and we discovered that we could exchange gifts freely. Hodgins could give me the tickets - as long as I gave him something of comparable value in return."

Booth frowned. "No, that's not acceptable to me. In that case, Hodgins isn't out any money, because you're essentially paying him to buy the tickets from me. I want something from him, not you."

Bones smiled. "I suspected you'd feel that way, so we looked for another loophole. I don't have to give Hodgins something that costs roughly the same - just that it has a comparable value. The actual dollar cost is irrelevant, as long as we can argue that the value is higher."

"You're losing me here, Bones."

"Fine. I'm giving Hodgins a complete set of my books in exchange for the tickets, which I will then share with you."

Booth shook his head. "That won't work. In case you forgot, your books have their price stamped right on them. And you haven't come close to writing that many books."

"Yes, but this is a very special set of books. Each will be a first edition hardcover, and they will be customized."

Booth, in spite of himself, was intrigued. "Customized? How?"

Bones smiled. She knew she had him now. "Each copy will be autographed. Further, each will also have a special mark - an impression of my lips on the title page of each book. And each time I publish another book, I will give him a copy of that book similarly customized."

Booth was still lost. "OK, that's pretty different, but I'm still not following you."

Bones' smile grew broader. "My contract with Jack also specifies that I will not imprint my lips on any other books - only his. That makes his books unique - and, as such, worth whatever we agree upon. And we agreed that they would be worth a pair of season tickets to the Washington Capitols."

Booth sat back, impressed. "And all this is legal?"

"We ran it past three different lawyers, and they all agreed that it was a little shaky, but it should hold up."

Booth frowned. "Damn, you went to all this work, and I'm really tempted. But I really, really want to shoot him."

Bones, surprisingly, smiled. "I thought you might feel that way, so I insisted on one last thing." She pulled a box from behind her desk and handed it to him.

Booth took it. It was long and wide, but almost flat - kind of like two pizza boxes next to each other. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

Booth carefully opened the box, and pulled out a large sheet of paper. Printed on it was an almost life-sized picture of a very unhappy Hodgins - in a clown suit. "What the hell is this?"

Bones grinned. "Range targets! One dozen pictures of Hodgins, dressed as a clown. Considering your fear of clowns..."

Booth protested. "Hey, I'm not afraid of clowns! I just... don't like them. I don't like them a lot."

Bones continued. "Fine, then. Considering your 'feelings' towards clowns, I assumed that putting Hodgins in such an outfit and letting you shoot at that image would let you resolve your anger over the other day's lab accident." She paused, but Booth didn't respond. He was studying the target carefully. "Booth? Do you accept the deal?"

After another moment, Booth answered. "I have one final question. Was Angela involved in these targets?"

Bones nodded. "It was my idea, but I told it to her and she provided them."

Booth continued to study the target. "I wonder... did Angela Photoshop up these pictures, or did she bully Hodgins into posing for them?"

Bones paused. "I also considered that question, and came to the conclusion that Angela was fully capable of either option. And I decided that I didn't wan to know the answer."

Booth slowly nodded. "I know what you mean. And I can see her doing either one, depending on her mood at the time." He carefully put the target back in the box. "OK, I accept. I won't shoot Hodgins." He then glanced at the targets. "I mean, I won't shoot the real Hodgins."


	6. Chapter 6: Virgo

As Booth put the finishing touches on his Nativity Scene, Bones finally spoke up. "You know, Mary wasn't necessarily a virgin."

Booth didn't take the bait, and calmly answered her. "It says so in the Good Book, Bones, so that's good enough for me."

Bones wasn't going to give up. "Actually, if you go back to the original Hebrew, the word used doesn't necessarily mean 'sexually inexperienced.' It means 'young, unmarried woman.'"

"Sorry, Bones, not gonna get into this with you. Especially this time of year."

Bones decided to try a different tack. "It's really not unique to Christianity anyway, Booth. The fetishizing of virginity, especially in women, is a near-universal constant. Many cultures imbue sexual inexperience with attributes such as purity, innocence, and power.

Booth turned away from his display. "And that's because... no, why don't you explain it to me?"

Bones was in her element now. "The predominant theory is that it is done so men can control women's sexuality. By limiting how she expresses and experiences her sexuality into the roles they have defined, they can exert control over women's behavior. And by imbuing virginity with so many positive aspects, combined with the stigmatizing of over expression and exploration of sex, they can restrain women into submissive roles."

"I know that tone of yours, Bones. That's the voice you use when you are convinced that you know better than anyone else. What do you think of it?"

Bones paused. Sometimes she loved how well he knew her. Other times - far more often than she cared to admit - it really got under her skin. This was one of the latter. Of course, she had her own theories, but she didn't like discussing them until she'd worked out the details to her satisfaction.

"I can see those little wheels turning in your head, Bones. You're trying to find a way to avoid answering it. Out with it."

She sighed. "You really won't like hearing it."

"Now you know you have to tell me."

She fixed him with her most scholarly gaze. "I think there's a lot of truth in that theory, but I think it doesn't go far enough. The primary enforcement mechanism of the virginity demand is within the family unit, and especially from the father. It's the fathers that are the most protective of the girl's chastity."

"Well, of course it is. It's the father's job to protect his children."

"I think it's more than that. I think it's also to reinforce the incest taboo."

"Huh? You're losing me."

"Booth, men are genetically programmed to seek out and reproduce with females. And they are programmed to be drawn to women in their sexual prime - when they are young, as they reach their sexual maturity. It would be entirely understandable for a male to be sexually attracted to a female who is reaching their sexual maturity, especially when there is already a very substantial emotional attachment between the two. The virginity aspect serves to, in a way, desexualize the female in relation to the father. Her sexuality is not something for him to exploit, but to deny and control. He sublimates his normal desire for sex into preventing her from exploring her sexuality with not just him, but anyone else. And by denying her a sexual identity, he protects her from his own sexuality."

Booth paused for a long moment. "Is that what you really think?"

Bones frowned. "This is exactly why I don't like sharing these theories before I've fully worked them out. Especially with you. You have trouble separating the abstract ideas from your own beliefs and experiences and feelings."

"But is that what you really think?"

Bones took her own long pause. "I don't know. I don't fully believe in it, but so far I haven't found any obvious flaws in it. I'm considering writing it up for some journals to see if others might see problems with it that I've missed, but right now it's just a theory - a theory that complies with all the available evidence I've looked at so far."

Booth nodded. "I see. And you really think it's pretty much a male phenomenon? That it's predominantly an issue with fathers?"

"I do. Parents tend to identify more with children of the same sex, and feel the need to protect those of the opposite sex. Look how fathers treat their teens who start exploring their sexuality - a lot of fathers take a bit of pride in their sons' sexual exploits, while insisting on imposing very strict limits on their daughters. Likewise, mothers find themselves sharing a great deal with their daughters, but tend to think of their sons as their 'little boys' well into maturity."

"Is that so?"

"Generally, yes." 

"And you really believe that?"

"Generally, yes."

Booth then gave her his sly smile - the one she knew meant he thought he'd just won a major victory. And, dammit, usually did mean just that. "So, as a mother, how will you feel about the first boy who touches our little girl?"

Bones' face turned to stone. "I think we can compromise on that one. We'll both shoot him."


	7. Chapter 7: Libra

_Author's Note: I actually had this chapter planned out months and months ago, but I was so stuck on Scorpio that I postponed actually writing and posting it in hopes that something would come to mind. It hasn't, but maybe this will finally trigger inspiration. _

Chapter 7: Libra

Booth was pulling out a pair of boxers when he heard the sigh from the bathroom. It confused him for a moment, as he'd never heard quite that tone from Bones before. "Everything OK in there?"

He gritted his teeth at her casual "it's nothing." It was exactly the tone he used when he didn't want to talk about something he really should talk about. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the door.

Bones was standing in front of the mirror, staring at her nude self. And unhappily.

"What's the matter, Bones?"

"It's... nothing."

"No, it's something. So spill."

"Fine, it's not nothing. But it's stupid."

He stood behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "You're feeling stupid? That has to be a first. Now you have to tell me."

She playfully swatted his arm, but didn't move it away from her. "I'm just... finally noticing and accepting the changes in my body since I gave birth. And I find I'm disappointed in myself."

Booth squeezed his arms around her reassuringly. "Honey, all women's bodies change after childbirth. It's entirely natural. You ought to know that more than anyone – how many times have you glanced at a skeleton and known whether or not it's a woman who's given birth?"

"It's more than that. Yes, I knew my body would change, and I even knew what those changes would most likely be. My face is slightly broader, my breasts larger and starting to sag, my stomach is laxer, my hips are wider... all entirely normal and predictable, and all expected."

"OK, you're losing me here. If you knew all this before and accepted it, why does it have you down now?"

She leaned back against him. "It's not the changes themselves, Booth. It's that I still find myself depressed by them, and wishing I had my prepartum body back. Intellectually, I know that is ridiculous, and I should be proud of the changes my maternity has brought about, but I'm still bothered."

Booth pressed his chin against the top of her head. "So, you're bothered because you thought you were better than most other women and wouldn't fall into that trap, and you find that you're just like everyone else?"

"When you put it that way, it sounds arrogant, but... yes. I know better, but I'm still feeling it."

Booth sighed and gave a slight chuckle. "How awful. Doctor Temperance Brennan, world-renowned forensic anthropologist and best-selling author, is not completely superior to all other women in all ways. I think I just lost all respect for you."

Bones pulled away from him. "It's not funny, Booth." When he refused to let her go, she relented. "Well, OK, maybe it is just a little funny. But it doesn't feel funny to me."

He pulled her close again. "Bones, let me ask you a few questions. OK?"

She half-heartedly tried to free herself again. "Seeing as I'm not going anywhere right now, go ahead."

He nuzzled her hair. "You often talked about my body, even before we finally got involved. You complimented my physique, and the one thing you mentioned most was my symmetry. Is that correct?"

She smiled and rubbed back against him. "Well, it's true. You have exceptional bilateral symmetry, and by nearly all cultural standards, that is considered attractive. You also have well-developed musculature, height comfortably above the average for women, and other traits often defined as attractive."

"Turn around." He slowly turned her until they were face to face. "Give me your hand." He took her hand and gently placed it on the scar on his shoulder. "How about this? This scar throws off that symmetry. I only have one like it, and it's off-center. That makes me quite asymmetrical, and that should detract from my appeal, right?"

She pulled her hand back. "Stop that. You know I don't like talking about that."

"Why not? You have to admit, it ruins my symmetry."

"But that's not what bothers me about it."

"Then what is it?"

"You know I don't like talking about feelings, and I hate even more discussing... that time."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist here. What about this scar bothers you so much?"

Bones realized he wasn't going to drop it. "It's... complicated. On the one hand, I hate it. It is a constant reminder of how I nearly lost you, how I actually thought you were dead, and that was one of the worst times of my life. I don't like to think about that time, and it always makes me think about it."

He took her hands in his. "That's not very complicated. That's pretty simple, actually. But what about the other hand?"

She bit her lip for a moment, then continued. "On the other hand... it reminds me how you took that bullet for me, how you saved my life. I know we've done that more often than any dozen normal couples, but that time, you almost died. And while I thought you were dead, I realized just how important you were to me. It was then that I first started to understand how much I loved you."

He pulled her close again. "I understand. I understand perfectly. Because that's how I feel, too."

She looked up at him. "You're losing me, Booth."

He smiled down at her. "Those changes in your body? To me, they're just like my scar. When I look at them, I am reminded of what brought them about. I'm reminded that I was the one who made those changes happen. I'm reminded that you knew they were going to happen, and accepted them. And that those changes led directly to our daughter and our marriage. So when I see those changes in your body, I am reminded of how they gave me everything in my life that I hold most precious."

Bones gazed into his eyes. "How is it that you always know exactly what to say?"

"You're not the only genius in this family, Bones. You're just the only certified one."

Her eyes narrowed. "OK, genius, then what am I thinking right now?"

He smiled at her and contemplated for a moment. "If I had to venture a guess, you're thinking that we're both naked and there's a very comfortable bed only a few steps away..."

She arched an eyebrow. "Actually, I was thinking that while I may have lost muscle tone in my breasts and stomach, I could – and did – do a certain type of exercises that preserved my tone in... other areas. And while I wasn't exactly thinking of what you said, that would certainly give me an opportunity to prove..."

The rest of her answer was lost in a shriek as Booth scooped her up and unceremoniously tossed her on their bed.


	8. Chapter 8: Scorpio

**Chapter 8: Scorpio**

_OK, this one is a hell of a stretch, but it's the first halfway-decent idea I've had so far._

Inside the mind of Dr. Temperance Brennan:

_That was a peculiar phrase Booth just used. I don't believe that my posterior is in any way dangerous, let alone lethal. There was that time when I first starting practicing veganism when it was awkward, but after a brief period of adaptation and learning which foods my system could manage without excessive gas production, it's been fine._

_The term might be metaphorical. There are contexts where "killer" is a rhetorical shorthand for "competition killer," a superlative that denotes extreme superiority. In that context, the remark would seem to be a compliment._

_However, the praising of my gluteal area seems a bit illogical. The buttocks are clearly a secondary sex characteristic for most people. Booth has not only expressed no interest in intimacy involving the anus, but explicitly proclaimed his disinterest. _

_Then again, Booth is a very primal Alpha Male, and traditionally primates tended to mate in the rear-entry position. In that context, the buttocks are quite prominent in "presenting," the posture a female traditionally assumes to indicate that she is interested in intercourse. And while Booth is most frequently interested in face-to-face copulation, it could be a form of "racial memory" in his case._

_Which brings up the matter of human women's overly-developed breasts. It actually can be a hindrance in nursing, the breasts' biological function, where protruding nipples would more than suffice. There is the theory that the breasts are intended to remind males of buttocks, and they do seem to provoke a similar response. It certainly seems to apply in Booth's case, whose fondness for my breasts is quite thoroughly appreciated and encouraged._

_This would seem to indicate that Booth is objectifying me by identifying and praising my sexual appeal to him, and I ought to resent that. However, long before our relationship took on the sexual aspect, he previously had complimented me on other aspects of myself, and has continued that – the sexual parts have been added to his conduct. And as my objections are to being considered solely on a sexual basis, I have no grounds for complaint. Indeed, the times when I have deliberately emphasized my sexual traits, and in those circumstances the attention I received were acknowledgment that I had succeeded in my intent._

_Alternately, "ass" is sometimes used as a suffix to denote a superlative state. "Kick-ass," "suck-ass," "drag-ass," "dumb-ass," and "bad-ass" are all somewhat common phrases, emphasizing the first term. However, Booth was speaking clearly, and clearly spoke them as two separate words, not a single, compound word._

_So after careful consideration, I must conclude that Booth intended his remark as a compliment, within the context of our ongoing monogamous sexual relationship, and in no way intended to belittle or objectify me. Therefore my response should also be positive._

_However, under most societies, the traditional response to a compliment is to return one, in a similar vein. Should I return the favor by commenting on his buttocks, or would that be too blatant? Perhaps a reference to how the cut of his suit emphasizes his shoulders, or how his "COCKY" belt buckle draws attention to his genitalia in a pleasing way. _

_No, I know that I have yet to master the social skills to return his compliment in an assured appropriate fashion. And while I am comfortable that Booth would not react poorly to such an error, the safest response in this context would be, I believe, a simple acknowledgement of the compliment. _

For a the briefest instant, Booth thought he saw Bones hesitate at his remark, and he started to wonder if he had overstepped some boundary. But then she smiled _that smile,_the smile she reserved for him and him alone. "Thank you, Booth."


	9. Chapter 9: Sagittarius

**Chapter 9: Sagittarius**

"Come on, Bones, we're going to be late for lunch." Booth pleaded.

"Booth, we're going to the diner. They will not start our food until we order it, which means that we have to be there. Therefore, by definition, we cannot be late." Regardless, she took off her lab coat and reached for her jacket. "However, before we go, we need to stop by Angela's office."

"Why?"

Bones shrugged into the jacket. "She wouldn't say, just that it was important I see her before we left."

Booth held the door for her. "Fine, but let's make it quick. I'm starving."

Bones shook her head. "That is ridiculous. You are a very well-nourished male, and I am quite certain you had breakfast this morning. You would have to go without food for several days before you reached the definition of 'starvation.'" She paused at Angela's door. "That's odd. It's dark inside."

"Maybe she left without you."

"She wouldn't do that." Bones opened the door. "Ange?"

The lights flipped on, revealing Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, and Cam. "Surprise!"

Bones pinned Angela with a glare. "Angela, I specifically told you I wanted no observation of my birthday this year."

Angela smiled. "Who says this is for your birthday? Happy Sagittal Suture Day!"

Bones frowned. "I am... not familiar with that. In fact, I am fairly certain that there is no designated day for the sagittal suture, let alone any other anatomical feature."

"That's why we're starting one. And this one is for you."

"I don't know what that means. It makes no sense whatsoever."

Angela put her arm around Bones. "Come on, sweetie. Tell me about the sagittal suture."

Bones was slightly more confident. "It's the joint that fuses the parietal bones at the top of the skull."

Booth, grinning broadly, chimed in. "And what is its significance, speaking from the forensic pathology perspective?"

Bones answered almost by rote. "It's open for the first few decades of life. At around age 29, it begins to close, and takes about six years to fully close over. It's an indicator of the age of a skull."

"Exactly, Bones. Today, as you turn 35, we celebrate the closure of your sagittal suture."

"That is ridiculous. There has never been a culture that has designated that event as having any kind of social significance, requiring any kind of observation or rite. In fact, it would be absurd, as the only way it could be observed would almost certainly require the death of the celebrant."

"So we're starting a new tradition." Booth produced a party hat which was decorated with a top view of a skull, and strapped it to Bones' head. "Happy Sagittal Suture Day! Now open your presents!"

Bones sighed and resigned herself to the insanity. She sat down in Angie's chair. "Fine, let's get this ove with." 

"That's the spirit, Bones. First up, here's one from Cam." Bones opened up the small, rectangular box and pulled out a tube of toothpaste.

"Dr. Saroyan, while I appreciate your concern for my dental hygiene, but I must tell you that this is not my preferred brand."

Cam just smiled. "Don't complain, Dr. Brennan. Just appreciate your Sagittal Crest."

While Bones looked puzzled, the rest of the room groaned. Then, suddenly, Bones giggled. "Oh, it's a pun! Because the brand of the toothpaste is named 'Crest,' and there is an anatomic feature called a 'sagittal crest.' That's very clever!"

Booth shook his head. "Only you, Bones, would laugh at that kind of a joke."

"It's really quite clever, Booth. Not everyone would make such a connection."

"Don't be so certain. Next up, Sweets."

This box was even smaller. Unwrapped, it revealed a tiny travel sewing kit. "This also strikes me as odd as the toothpaste. I have a much more elaborate sewing kit at home, and already have one for my travels. What am I supposed to do with this one?"

Lance smiled bashfully. "Do whatever you like with it, Dr. Brennan. Just 'suture self.'"

More groans emerged, and Bones laughed loudly again. "Very witty, Dr. Sweets! You're exploiting how the common phrase 'suit yourself' sounds very much like 'suture self,' which ties together both the sagittal suture and the sewing."

Booth leaned over to Bones. "Uh, it kind of kills the joke when you explain it."

"But it's an excellent bit of wordplay, Booth. As a best-selling author, I am probably the best qualified here to appreciate such linguistic sleight of hand."

"You might be the best writer, but believe me, puns like that shouldn't be appreciated." He handed her a envelope. "This one's from Hodgins."

Bones opened it and pulled out a McDonald's gift card. "Once again, I am confused by this gift. I have not eaten at a McDonald's in years, and their menu is decidedly unappealing to me. I presume there is some hidden meaning, as with the other two?"

Hodgins smiled bashfully. "What better gift on your Sagittal Suture day than a gift card for the Golden Sagittal Arches?"

Once again everyone groaned, except Bones. Booth couldn't believe that she actually seemed to love these incredibly lame puns. "OK, now it's Angie's turn." He handed her another envelope.

"Another gift card, this one for The Gap? Again, not the sort of business I normally frequent, so it must tie into the theme."

Angie started to speak, but Bones interrupted her. "No, I think I get this one. Another term for 'gap' is 'space' or 'cavity,' so this must refer to the sagittal sinuses!" The now-familiar groans told her she was right. She smiled triumphantly.

Booth handed her one final box. "And this last one is from me." It was quite heavier than the rest. Bones opened the lid and removed a woodworking tool. It was heavy and generally rectangular. On the bottom was an exposed blade running side to side, and on the top there was a knob at one end. A second look showed that the knob was actually a miniature skull.

"I have to confess, Booth, I have no idea what this is."

Booth smiled in triumph. "It's your sagittal plane. And the knob is a custom shifter knob from the auto parts store."

Bones smiled happily. "It's perfect. I have no idea when I might need to smooth out a large piece of wood, but if I ever do, it is the ideal tool." She looked around at her friends. "I know I said I didn't want any kind of observation of my birthday, but thank you. This was delightful."

They all laughed, and Booth spoke for all of them. "You're welcome, Bones. But next year, can we just have a normal party, and not go hunting for some lame anthropological excuse?"


	10. Chapter 10: Capricorn

Chapter 9: Capricorn

Booth awoke to Bones staring at him. "Huh? Is something wrong?"

Bones smiled at him. "Just... thinking. Imagining."

"Imagining what?"

"You."

"You really don't need to imagine. I'm right here."

"No. I'm imagining you with a beard."

Booth instinctively raised a hand to his face. "A beard? No. Nuh-uh. Never."

Bones frowned. "Why not?"

Booth was still a bit dopey from just waking up. "Um... FBI regs. Grooming and personal standards. Beards aren't allowed."

"Yes, they are. I checked. As long as they're neat."

"Um... they itch."

"According to Hodgins, only at first. And it will be uncomfortable for me, at first, but I am willing to put up with that until it fully grows in."

"I... I don't like them."

"You've never had one. I've seen photos of you from puberty, and you never had any facial hair."

"I... I'm not going to win this one, are you?"

Bones smiled. "Nope. Not this one. I want to see you with a beard."

"Can we compromise? How about a goatee?"

Bones considered. "I would view that as an acceptable compromise – at least, for now."

Booth eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"And no shaving!"

BB BB BB BB BB

Sunday morning, Brennan awoke to a most unpleasant sensation – a rough scraping along her tender inner thighs. She snapped awake and pulled back the covers.

Between her legs was Seeley Booth, smiling as he brushed his bristly cheeks along her legs.

"Seeley Joseph Booth, just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

He climbed up and beside her, still smiling. "Showing you how wrong you were."

"You'd better start explaining."

He settled back on the pillow. "You said that I'd never tried growing a beard, because you'd seen pictures of me dating back to my childhood, and I was clean-shaven in all of them."

"That's right. Your grandfather has been extremely generous with his collection."

"Did it ever occur to you that no such pictures didn't exist because the times I did, it went so badly that I got rid of it before any photos could be taken?"

Bones opened her mouth, but stopped. It hadn't occurred to her.

"You see, Bones, I tried growing a beard several times. But I have these annoying bald spots right here," touching the edges of his mouth, "and the mustache never connects. I could go for the full Fu Manchu, but that looks stupid. Plus, if you look closely, it's coming in gray. Almost white. It's been that way since my mid-twenties. The rest of my hair is still dark, but that one spot – gray."

Bones finally found her words. "I... that possibility did not occur to me." She glared at him. "But you could have told me that. You could have refused."

Booth snorted. "And you would have accepted that?" Bones had the good grace to not argue. "No, you had your mind made up. I knew the only way Dr. Temperance Brennan would accept that I should not grow a beard was to show her – literally, in black and white – that it was a bad idea."

Bones threw up her hands. "Fine, you win. Now go and shave."


	11. Chapter 11: Aquarius

**Chapter 11: Aquarius**

At the announcement, Booth pushed back from the table and reached for his wallet. "OK, Bones, I think it's time to go."

Bones was puzzled. "What? We just got here, and it seems nice."

"Didn't you hear that? They're about to hold a wet T-shirt contest."

"A what? I don't know what that means."

"Bones, you know, a... you know, a _wet T-shirt_ contest."

"No, as I just said, I don't know what that is, and repeating the same phrase with added emphasis does nothing to clarify it. Is it a test to see what T-shirt can absorb the most water? Do they use them to wipe down the bar, and then weigh them to rate their absorbancy?"

Booth sighed. "Look, Bones, I'll explain it later. Won't you just trust me that you don't want to be here for this?"

Bones paused. "No, I don't think so. While normally I would defer to your judgment, your obvious discomfort, especially when presented in contrast with the crowd's enthusiastic approval at the same announcement, makes me suspect that there is some kind of cultural significance here. Further, your discomfort is quite reminiscent to several other occasions when sexual matters have arose. My logical conclusion is that this event has some kind of sexual context, which conflicts with your Catholic upbringing."

Booth winced. "You're not going to let this one go, are you?"

Bones smiled. "No, I'm not. So, will you enlighten me, or will I have to simply observe and draw my own conclusions?" She smile broadened. "They're looking for women to volunteer. Perhaps I can best learn about this by direct participation..."

Booth's arm shot out and grabbed her arm, holding her in her seat. "**Absolutely not, **Bones. You are NOT getting up there with all those bimbos, performing for these animals..."

Bones normally didn't appreciate being manhandled, but was more amused by Booth's caveman protectionism than angered. She rested her other hand atop his. "Why, Seeley Booth, there's obviously something very provocative about this ritual, to get you so agitated. Why don't you just explain it to me?"

Booth looked down at his hand grasping her forearm, as if he didn't realize what he'd done. He realized he was not winning this fight. "It's... just what it sounds like, Bones. Women get up on the stage wearing T-shirts, they get wetted down, and then the crowd votes on their favorite."

Bones mulled it over for a moment. "I don't quite see the point of this exercise. When the T-shirt is wet, it loses its protective value..." her voice trailed off for a moment. "Oh, I see now. The T-shirt, when wet, adheres much more closely to the body. And, if they are traditional cotton T-shirts, they would also develop a translucent quality that would make their breasts more visible."

Booth sighed. "And it's usually cold water, too..."

"Which would trigger their nipples' erectile properties!" Bones blurted out. "This whole ritual is about exposing the women's breasts without actually involving public nudity."

"That's about it, Bones," Booth sighed. "Now can we go?"

"Absolutely not, Booth. This is a fascinating ritual. It allows the women to indulge any exhibitionistic tendencies and gain the approval of men in a relatively safe environment, where they can be comfortable that they will not be sexually assaulted. And the men can indulge their voyeuristic tendencies and observe women's breasts more readily and openly than they would otherwise. Both sexes are being given an opportunity to indulge their sexual desires without the customary fears of rejection or being the subject of overaggressive would-be suitors." She looked him in the eye. "I would be quite surprised if you had not attended such events before. In fact, your response indicates a certain level of familiarity with this ritual."

Booth looked down. "Yeah, I've been to a few, but I was a lot younger then."

Bones nodded. "Yes, this would have a greater appeal for the less mature." She paused. "Are there similar events where young men exhibit themselves for the enjoyment of women?" She didn't give him time to answer. "I doubt it would be identical. The taboo for exposed torsos is far less for men than women, so wet T-shirts wouldn't have quite the same 'forbidden fruit' appeal. A better parallel would be a 'wet boxers' contest. However, that would have several sociological complications. Male genitalia, quite frankly, lacks the cultural approval as female breasts. An erect penis is often perceived as threatening, while a flaccid one is more often seen as amusing. Further, the cold water would produce a different effect. The contracting response in the breast causes erections of the nipples, while on the male genitalia would result in retraction – making the males in question more subject to mockery than praise."

Booth had had enough. "Fine, Bones, we can stay and you can observe this 'ritual.' But under two conditions."

Bones cocked an eyebrow at Booth. "And what would those be?"

"First, you will only observe, and not enter the contest."

Bones nodded. "Agreed. While it would probably be more educational to learn through participation than observation, I think I would prefer to see how this plays out before making such a decision." She glanced down at her outfit. "In addition, I believe that this particular top of mine would not react to the water in the approved fashion – and would possibly damage it, and I am rather fond of it. Further, the bra I am wearing tonight would not lend itself to such competition."

Booth forced himself to not look at her chest. "Second – and most important – you will keep your analysis to yourself. I really don't need to hear you critiquing every aspect of this."

Bones shook her head. "Sorry, Booth, I can't agree to that. I often record my thoughts when I'm observing things, and even when I don't have a recorder at hand, I have conditioned myself to better remember events by speaking my thoughts aloud. If I don't speak my thoughts, I could too easily forget some key points later." She glanced down at the table. "In fact, I probably should refrain from drinking any more, so as to not risk diminishing my observational skills."

Booth let out a long sigh and held up a hand to summon a waitress. "Great. Well, don't worry, I think I'll be drinking enough tonight for both of us."


	12. Chapter 12: Pisces

**Chapter 12: Pisces**

_This one's a little different. It's more of a writing exercise than anything else. I've set myself a challenge, and I'm trying to see if I can achieve it and still put together a semi-coherent story. Just what the challenge is I'm leaving as a challenge to the readers._

"Booth, I'm having second thoughts about this outfit. Are you sure it looks good on me?"

"Bones, I already told you it's dynamite. And I've also told you that it's a sign of insecurity when you go..."

"Yes, I know. And yes, I was allowing my insecurities to cause me to seek reassurance. I'm sorry. It's just that my agent says that this is a very important gathering."

"He's just buttering you up. Yeah, you're a big wheel, but there aren't that many scientists who are also successful novelists. Since Michael Crichton and Carl Sagan both died, you're probably the biggest..."

"That's not very comforting, Booth. It's bad enough that my career is based on death; now you're saying that a significant factor in my success is also death."

Booth shrugged. Sometimes there was no winning. "What I don't get is why you're dragging me along. It's gonna be a room full of and novelists. I'm a grunt – a former Army Ranger, now FBI agent. I'm so going to be like a..."

"The invitation was clearly for both of us, and there will be plenty of other spouses there as well. Besides, while you do seem to enjoy hiding it, you are quite intelligent and well-educated, and your experiences put you on at least an equal standing with anyone else who will be there. You will only be out of place if you put yourself there."

"Hey, hey, hey," Booth protested. "While I'm proud of what I've done, it's nothing like what they've done. I'm not saying it's better or less than what they've done, but it's a whole different kettle..."

"If anyone is in a position to judge that, Booth, it's me – I'm a member of that group, and I've known you and seen what you do for years. Yes, it's different, but there are enough similarities that they can appreciate it. In fact, some of them might even seek you out for inspiration – it's no secret that I've used you as an inspiration for Andy Lister, and some of them have similar characters in their books. Plus, some of them also base characters on their spouses, so you will have some sympathies there." She rested a hand on his arm. "Plus, you'll be there supporting me. Don't you think I'll need you there?"

Booth snorted. "Please, Bones. You need me there – or any man – like a... never mind. Now you're buttering me up. And I know you only do that when you know you've won."

Bones frowned. "Sometimes I hate that I'm so transparent to you. It's another sign of my insecurities showing. I still find myself wondering how you picked me, when there are so many other..."

Booth took her chin in his hand. "No, there aren't. You are very – no, extremely unique."

Bones smiled. "That's nonsense, Booth. 'Unique' is a superlative; applying modifiers like 'very' or 'extremely' is absurd."

Booth smiled back. "In most cases, yes. But when it comes to you, it isn't. I've known a lot of unique people in my life, and I can say without a doubt that you are the most unique of all of them." And he silenced her protests with a tender kiss.

After a moment, they parted. Bones opened her eyes and shook her head. "As compelling a gesture as that is, it's time end this discussion – or, as I believe you like to say, it's time to..."

Booth shook his head. "Fine, I'm going. Just tell me two things. First, if you tell any stories about me or any of our cases, will you at least keep them close to the truth? I mean, some of those are the biggest..."

"I always base my novels on actual events. And while I do fictionalize some elements for a variety of entirely legitimate reasons, I have never completely fabricated anything."

Booth gave her a semi-serious glare. "We are going to continue this discussion at a later date – and we will have copies of your books handy at that time. I'm still getting the occasional questions about Page 187."

"And you know that part of you loves the attention, Booth. It's perfect for your alpha male ego. In fact, if you were single, you'd probably replace your 'COCKY' belt buckle with one that reads 'PAGE 187.' If you wore that to one of my book signings, picking up women would be like shooting..."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Booth protested. "Yeah, there's a part of me that finds that flattering, but one, I am NOT single, and two, it's NOT my move, it's Hodgins'. That puts a bit of a damper on it – it makes it fine for bait, but when some woman were to call my bluff, I'd be flopping around like a..."

"OK, that was a bit overstated. But your concerns are a bit exaggerated. While I cannot promise you that you will enjoy the evening, I can assure you that it will be nowhere as unpleasant as you are making it sound. And, as a bonus, I promise you that I will be..." she lowered her voice until it was almost a purr and placed a hand on his leg, "_very _appreciative of your coming along to support me."

Booth looked down at her hand and knew it was time to yield. "OK, let's go. Just one more thing: will there be an open bar?"

Bones was puzzled, and it showed. "Why does that matter? You're not the type to seek intoxication at these kinds of events."

"No, I'm not. But these other people, these colleagues of yours... I've met a few of them, and they can totally drink like a..."

Bones laughed. "No, the alcohol is usually restrained at these gatherings. It's hard to get that drunk on champagne and fine wine." She stood and waited by the door. "Shall we go?"

Booth took his cue and helped her on with her coat. "Let's go knock 'em dead, Bones."


	13. Chapter 13: Afterword

Author's Note:

Well, that took considerably longer than I expected. But I did finish it. For the record, here's the astrological links for each story:

Aries: Dodge Aries, Dodge Ram

Taurus: Mechanical bull riding

Gemini: Twins and crime

Cancer: Booth's colon cancer screening

Leo: Booth's "mane" and "pride" in his hair

Virgo: Virginity

Libra: Balance and scales

Scorpio: "killer ass"

Sagittarius: Various sagittal references

Capricorn: Goatee

Aquarius: wet t-shirt contest

Pisces: Various fish-relate aphorisms.

On that last one: I was going to simply write a story using every single fish-related aphorism I could find, but at the last minute thought it would be more fun to use them without actually spelling them out, as a challenge to you, the readers. For the record, here they are:

Fishing for compliments

biggest fish in a small pond

like a fish out of water

whole different kettle of fish

a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle

many other fish in the sea

time to fish or cut bait

biggest fish stories

flopping around like fish out of water

drink like a fish

Thanks to all the readers and especially the reviewers. And just for Caroline, who seemed to really enjoy this: this is pretty much my style. If you liked these, you'd probably like my other ones. Perhaps not the M-rated ones as much.


End file.
